


Amenadiel Is(n't) Needed

by katya1828



Series: My (un)Beloved Brother - Lucifer/Amenadiel one-shots (non-slash) [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Brother Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), Brother Feels, Gen, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 04, Lucifer Feels, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, M/M, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Protective Amenadiel (Lucifer TV), deckerstar compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22495045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katya1828/pseuds/katya1828
Summary: Alternative scene from the end of S4E1. After Lucifer is injured, what if Chloe hadn’t come to see him, and Amenadiel visited instead? Basically, brotherly angst, feels, and hurt/comfort. Not slash (this time!) and pretty much deckerstar compliant (as shippy as they are in the show, at any rate.)
Relationships: Amenadiel & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Amenadiel/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: My (un)Beloved Brother - Lucifer/Amenadiel one-shots (non-slash) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618276
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149





	Amenadiel Is(n't) Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the end of Season 3 and start of Season 4. I’ve taken some liberties in this fic with how angels’ healing powers and self-actualisation work, which aren’t necessarily canon but rather my loose take on it all. 
> 
> I wrote this a while back when I’d only watched episode 1 of season 4. I revisited it to help me get my bunnies for this pairing hopping again – I have a couple more multi-chapter fics for these two that should ready in a week or so. I hope you enjoy reading and apologies for any typos that have slipped through :)
> 
> The lyrics are from “True Love Waits” by Radiohead. They’d so hate being quoted in fanfic!

Amenadiel realized something was wrong as soon as he entered the penthouse. Even before Lucifer stopped attempting to play the piano and attacked it with a discordant smash of keys. Something had changed Lucifer’s mood drastically since they’d last met, earlier in the day. Amenadiel could well guess what—or who—had been responsible.

Perhaps Chloe Decker wasn’t so “fine” with the truth about Lucifer after all.

On sensing somebody was present, Lucifer looked up, a wild look of hope in his eyes. On seeing Amenadiel, he deflated.

“If you’ve come to gloat again,” said Lucifer, “it’s no longer a good time.”

Amenadiel edged closer, concern mingling with a mild sense of relief. He chastised himself for the latter, but it was good that he might be needed at last. Amenadiel had been prepped to fight the good fight for his friends and loved ones ever since he’d returned to L.A. Thus far, few seemed to be much in need of him.

“Luci, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, other than you not being my sushi delivery. You often do smell a bit fishy, mind, brother—though not as bad as that half-sibling of ours who was always messing about in boats.” Lucifer downed some whisky. “You creep up on people more than he did. I won’t miss _that_ when you bugger off back to the Silver City.”

Amenadiel refused to rise to Lucifer’s bait. He didn’t expect this to be easy. His younger brother was only slightly less likely to drag himself back to hell than actually admit he needed help. “You told me you were happy earlier and clearly something has changed that. Is there any way I can make things right again?”

“That's way beyond _your_ limited power. You see, I was fooling myself about the Detective being fine about my identity. Fooling myself about everything, so it seems.”

Despite Lucifer’s uncharacteristically hunched posture, and his nervous drags on his cigarette, he still glared daggers at Amenadiel. The daggers sharpened when Amenadiel sat down, squeezing onto the piano stool beside him. Lucifer tensed as their thighs and arms brushed together, but he didn’t jump up. Amenadiel took that as a small victory.

He noticed Lucifer’s right hand. It was tightly bandaged and soaked through with fresh blood.

“You’re hurt!” On instinct, he reached out to take Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer snatched his arm out of reach, turning from Amenadiel and cradling his injury against his body.

“Well done. Full points for observation.” Lucifer didn’t sound as sarcastic as perhaps he meant, and his voice was shaky. Amenadiel drew on all his warrior’s inner strength to stop himself flinging his arms around Lucifer and pulling him close, hugging away all the hurt and pain; giving the love that he only now, in this late age, was learning the true meaning of. With Lucifer, random cuddles would go down badly.

“What happened, Luci? Why aren’t you healing?”

“What happened is simple. Some bastard shot me, with the Detective standing right by. As for why I’m not healing…” Lucifer had stubbed out his cigarette, and was now clutching his right hand tight, probably too tight. When he released it, the patch of blood was spreading, soaking the bandage. “I am healing… a bit.” He laughed ruefully. “But for some comical reason it won’t stop bleeding.”

“I’m sorry.” Amenadiel moved to touch Lucifer’s shoulder, then pulled back, conflicted. Their bodies still lightly touched, and Lucifer was trembling, his breath snatched and uneven. He was fighting tears that his pride would never let fall, and it was that pride that terrified Amenadiel. One wrong step now, and Lucifer would push him away. Or punch him.

“Lucifer,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely more than a sonorous breath, “you do understand that you’re doing this to yourself. We angels have been blessed—and cursed—with self-actualisation. Your Detective isn’t even here. Right now, you’re hurting yourself.”

“Yes, yes, you told me. And if you’re right, or even if you’re not, then I deserve it.” Lucifer clenched and unclenched his bleeding fist. The bandage was now sodden red, enough to cause Amenadiel a stab of concern. “The Detective… The truth is, she’s repulsed by my devil face. By _me_. Oh, she’s trying to deny it; trying to convince herself otherwise, but… it’s unfair of me to expect her to accept it. I don’t think even _I_ will ever really accept—"

Lucifer broke off as Amenadiel gave way to his overwhelming compulsion to lay a comforting hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. At his touch, Lucifer jumped to his feet and rounded on him.

“Don’t!” Lucifer's eyes shone livid, glistening with those unshed tears. “Just sod off, please. There’s nothing that you can say that can help.”

“I know,” said Amenadiel. “I’ve said everything I need to say. You’re in control here, Luci. You just need to embrace that.”

Lucifer snorted. “Have you ever thought of becoming a kindergarten teacher? Your childish views would suit the role to perfection. But, seeing as I’m not a four-year-old, you’re less than useless to me. Goodnight.”

Lucifer paced away across the penthouse. Amenadiel leaped up and lunged after him, gently seizing his good wrist and tugging him back. Lucifer reeled about, fury flashing scarlet in his eyes. He balled his poorly hand into a fist once more, pulling back for a punch that would surely hurt him much more than Amenadiel. He launched the blow half-heartedly. Amenadiel caught his arm easily in a firm grip, then grabbed the other, grasping both of Lucifer’s forearms, holding him at bay.

“You want a fight, brother?” Lucifer bore his teeth, as they locked into a battle of strength, with Lucifer twisting away, and Amenadiel refusing to release him.

“Absolutely not.” The old Amenadiel might have opted for violence. But there was no way that he was going to cause Lucifer any more pain right then. Beatings had never solved anything between them anyhow. Besides, though he can feel Lucifer’s muscles trembling and straining, he knows Lucifer’s not trying as hard as he might. If Lucifer had really wanted out, Amenadiel would have had to resort to violence to keep him, and Amenadiel doesn’t even know for sure that he’d win. In the past he would have been more confident, yet they’ve both changed lately.

Their gazes locked, Lucifer strained a little harder, and briefly, Amenadiel wavered. Lucifer’s anger visibly mounted, and as fighting wasn’t an option, Amenadiel was going to _have_ to let him go.

“Let me help you,” he said, cool and calm. The other words he was desperate to impart, he knew Lucifer wouldn’t accept.

_I love you, brother. I know I’ve done badly by you, but I never wish to leave you in pain again. Please let me in._

“You think you deserve this,” he continued. “You are wrong. Whatever is going on with Chloe, it’ll be okay in the end. It’ll just take some time. She cares for you, Lucifer. We all do.”

“Who thought an angel could be such an accomplished liar?” Lucifer laughed nastily.

“I’m not lying, you know that.” Amenadiel was willing to hold faith that Chloe Decker lived up to his expectations of her. “Let yourself believe you can be loved.”

Lucifer snarled. Blood dripped from between his clenched fingers. Amenadiel realized he was bruising Lucifer, crushing flesh against bone just to keep hold of him, causing the further pain he’d vowed not to.

But just as Amenadiel verged upon conceding defeat, the twist of rage unwound from Lucifer’s features, the flames in his eyes waned, and he turned pliant in Amenadiel’s grasp.

“Oh, please yourself.” Lucifer sounded utterly drained. He let Amenadiel draw him back down onto the piano stool, so they sat close together once more. Amenadiel took Lucifer’s bleeding hand and enfolded it flat between his own palms.

He allowed the compassion and love that filled his chest to ignite the warm glow of celestial healing, pouring it into the places where they touched. At first, Lucifer’s hand stayed rigid and cool between his—oddly cool, given his injury and the blood that soaked the bandage. Then Amenadiel perceived a wonderful, sensuous glow trickling back from Lucifer’s flesh to his. He wanted to cry out in joy, but frowned instead, concentrating on the spine-tingling bliss of having his brother’s divine power blend with his.

It reminded him… of their closeness long ago, before Lucifer rebelled, before hell, before everything. Back then, he’d taken so much for granted. To be let in now, to have Lucifer respond to him like this after all that had passed between them, meant so much more.

“You can let me go now,” said Lucifer, who’d persistently refused to meet Amenadiel’s eye. “I’ve never liked hand-holding. I’m scared you’re going to whip out a ring and propose.”

Amenadiel reluctantly lifted his hand from on top of Lucifer’s, revealing a clean fresh bandage. The sticky blood had vanished.

_He let me! He let me heal him…_

Even better, he’d sensed Lucifer had been healing himself too, which made Amenadiel happier still. If he’d diminished Lucifer’s inner pain as well, allowing him to stop physically hurting himself, it truly was a good night’s work. Lucifer unwound the clean bandage, revealing perfect, unblemished flesh. He flexed his fingers, then ran them up a chromatic scale on the ebony and ivory keys.

“Better?” Amenadiel couldn’t contain the grin that overtook him.

Lucifer glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “I hope you don't expect a thank you.”

“I don't,” said Amenadiel, and Lucifer began to play, something tuneful and schmaltzy that wasn’t his usual style. One of those 90s classics that Chloe was so fond of, maybe. “If there’s anything that I can do to help you or your Detective, you know where I am.”

“In the Silver City with Dad?” Lucifer grunted derisively.

“No, Luci, I'll be right here for you in L.A.” Amenadiel patted Lucifer’s knee, then rose and walked away before he could suffer any retribution.

He knew he’d pushed his luck tonight, but Lucifer had let him. Lucifer had _needed_ him.

_Thank you, Father. Thanks for letting me understand, after all these years, what he needs. What I need._

He paused in the elevator with the doors held open. Lucifer didn’t seem to notice, and began playing another song and singing softly.

_“And true love waits  
In haunted attics  
And true love lives  
On lollipops and crisps_

_Just don't leave  
Don't leave…”_

Amenadiel finally allowed the sliding doors to close. Lucifer’s song wasn’t exactly cheery, but it didn’t sound _too_ despairing. And rarely in all Amenadiel’s long years, had his heart brimmed with such humble gratitude.

In some small way, he’d fixed his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
